sometimes, you've got to sit back and ponder life in the moment from the perspective of a bigger picture. You have got to allow for your wings to grow. You will break them off on your own every now and again, and sometimes the well meaning people in your life will pluck those pretty white feathers, but I promise you they will grow back. And the more you allow it, the faster it will happen.
Life is well worth living, if for no other reason, than at least for the valuable lessons we learn along the way. From a distance, I marvel at the beauty and intricacy of the variety of situations (whether we perceive them as negative or positive) we find ourselves in over the different stages of our lives. And all of them hold so many teachings... Like this summer. For me. The eclipses. The magical moon. Life gets all tangly and uncertain, but time always clarifies the waves. Do you ever wonder why? And most importantly, don't you find it mind-blowing, that the answer to that question is so impermanent.
I can hardly make sense of all I've lived during the past few weeks, but still, to this day I marvel at the complexity of it all. And most of the time I manage to wear the glasses of the observer and be swept away by the mysteries it holds so gracefully. Like a movie. Or that book, that has an ambiguous, partly sad ending, but the story moves into your heart so deeply that you cannot help but hold onto it well after you've closed the cover. And perhaps, if I had the soul (and talent) of a writer, I'd hide away for a few months in a cabin deep in the woods somewhere and squeeze it into a novel. But even our very rich Hungarian vocabulary falls short of expressing, truly, that which unfolds within my soul...
It is all too personal to share any more straight forwardly than that. There is however one lesson I am happy to talk about. One that has been thoroughly lived and learned. A new form of grace and compassion I have not practiced before. Ever. Because I would never, EVER, treat anyone so cruelly as I used to treat myself in difficult times. EVER! (I feel like repeating that last word for a while). I would never nudge someone who can barely breathe from all the weight they feel descending onto their soul to snap out of it. I'd hug them. I'd cry with them. I'd make them smile. I'd lay next to them as they napped. I'd be there. Regardless of how much time they'd take to breathe again. I'd stay. Yet, when it came to me, I'd firm up and demand change.
And I used to think I was good to myself. But I had to learn to become so. And this time around it came so naturally. So kindly, with steps so calm, yet firm and grounded, it felt like arriving home to myself. Like every piece of my heart I ever broke off was magically healed back into place.